When having minor oral surgery, or oral invasion as i like to call it, it's always a plus to discover that your oral surgeon is the father of your old hebrew school buddy. small city, huh? There I was, nervously sitting in the electric chair, waiting for my injection when i look up and see an adorable family photo of said doctor with said childhood acquaintance. Saying: "I went to hebrew school with your daughter" while at the oral surgeon is equivalent to saying "i'm an easy lay" on a first date, it makes you much more appealing to aforementioned doctor/date (note to mom and dad: I HAVE NEVER DONE SUCH A (W)HORRID THING). So of course he is quite pleased that i'm a nice jewish girl from westchester and gives me an extra shot of the numbing juice to ensure that the procedure is painless. I'm feeling quite comfortable now, i can't feel the left side of my face to the point where my eyeball is numb and this guy just became an old family friend - that is until he grabs the drill, smiles and says "ok, let's do the voodoo that we do!"needless to say, i survived the root canal and it didn't hurt until NOW. now, ouchies.
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